


Beach

by wideawakepastmidnight



Series: Spooky [2]
Category: On My Block (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27253678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wideawakepastmidnight/pseuds/wideawakepastmidnight
Summary: In the aftermath of Cesar begging to come back home, Oscar disappears.
Relationships: Oscar "Spooky" Diaz/Original Character(s), Oscar "Spooky" Diaz/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Spooky [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989913
Kudos: 3





	Beach

I checked the time on my phone once again, for the fourth or fifth time in the past quarter of an hour. 01:39. There was a niggling feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me that something was wrong. Oscar never stayed out so late without dropping me a message - even if it was simply the ghost emoji - just so that I knew he was okay.

I hadn’t made it home in time to see him before he had left, but the remaining Santos had been more than happy to regale the afternoon’s events. Cesar had come by, begging for his older brother to listen to him, to take him back, to let him come home. And Oscar had chased him off; according to the Santos - all except Sad Eyes, who had made meaningful eye contact with me - he had done it with gusto, but I knew that it was simply that he’d had no other choice. Had Cesar come by later, with less of an audience, perhaps the immediate response may have been a little different, a little more familial.

I swiped my fingertips over my brow as I sat there on the moth-eaten beaten-up couch, trying to figure out what my next move was. My gut was telling me to jump in my car and go looking for him, but I knew that with the block as hot as it was, that would cause more issues than it would solve.

Intent on overcoming idleness, I began picking up around the house. Being the Santo home base of sorts, the house was never spotless. It didn’t matter how many hours I spent scrubbing or how many times Oscar dragged the bottle bin around the house, something always escaped our notice.

It wasn’t until I had reached the kitchen after straightening up through the living room that I noticed the traces of Oscar on the table. A half full ashtray and an upended shot glass beside a picture of the three of us. It had been taken the summer before Oscar had gone into Corcoran; we had taken the day for a trip to the beach in celebration of Oscar’s 21st. There we were, frozen forever, smiling and laughing; Oscar holding the camera up with one hand, the other arm tucking me into his side as we sat on the sand with Cesar, a small skinny ten year old, wrapping his arms tightly around both our necks from behind and resting his head on top of ours.

I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath, reaching up to touch the small pendant Oscar had given me. I knew where I needed to go.

——

At that time of night, the drive took next to no time; the 11 miles disappearing beneath my tires.

Pulling up next to the cherry Impala, I got out and started to wend my way towards the solitary figure sat in the sand further on down the beach.

Drawing near, the smell of weed and the slosh of the tequila bottle were unmistakeable. He didn’t even turn to acknowledge my presence as I encroached on his space, settling down in the sand next to him with my legs crossed beneath me.

Without uttering a word, he went to pass me the joint he was currently blazing his way through.

I hesitated, “Are you gonna want to head home?”

He cut his eyes in my direction briefly before dropping his gaze to the bottle in his hand and shaking his head once.

I nodded and reached out to take the blunt from him.

We sat there for an immeasurable length of time, silently passing the joint between us, lighting up the fresh one that sat behind Oscar’s ear when we hit the roach on the first.

Finally I took the initiative and reached over to run my hand over the back of his head, leaving my palm resting against the back of his neck for a moment. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right babe? Oscar shit, Spooky shit; anything.”

He sniffed quietly and wiped a hand down his face, discreetly banishing the tears that had managed to escape. “That’s just it, mami. They cross over a lot.”

I chewed my lower lip in an attempt to staunch the tears that were creeping their way up into my eyes. Running my hand from his neck and down his back, I wrapped my arm around his and tangled our fingers, my eyes on his moonlit profile. I watched the muscles in his jaw jump as he ground his teeth, his mouth contorting as he fought to find the words to express the inner turmoil he was experiencing.

Eventually his head dropped and a small sob ripped through him. “You didn’t see him, mamas. I haven’t seen him look that desperate since he thought he’d lost me at the fair when he was seven. And all I wanted to do was grab him and run; take him some place safe. But I couldn’t. I had to push him back. I had to send him away. I had to force him onto the streets that wanna fucking kill him and I can’t-“

He choked and stumbled over the words until he couldn't get another sound out. Guttural body-wrenching sobs were ripping through him, shaking us both. I used my leverage on his one arm to pull him into me, his head coming to rest against my collarbone and my arms wrapping around him as tightly as my strength would allow. Tears were flowing down my cheeks but I compressed everything else into my lungs, barely breathing, as I hoped against hope that I could somehow hold all of the pieces of the man, the brother, the _father_ in front me together.

We stayed there, tangled together until the sun began to rise. With the pastel colours streaking the sky, I watched Oscar shake off the night before. He had once told me that in this life, the one he led, emotions and sentimentality would be his downfall, that he could allow himself one night to succumb to the pain and the heartbreak, and then he had to bury it; push it down so hard and so far that it came to sit like a rock at the bottom of his soul. It was a lesson he had learned soon after his father had left; with his mother turning to drugs and alcohol and a small Cesar to raise, he didn’t have the luxury of hurting. He had done it when his mother had disappeared for the final time, again when he had been jumped in more than a little against his own will, once more when he had found out that he was headed inside. And I watched him do it once again as the morning sun stroked his features, momentarily softening the grief and guilt carved into his skin.

He stood and reached down for my hands to pull me up to lean against him, our eyes meeting as we wrapped the other in our arms. He nodded once, confirming what I already knew: that this conversation was over and done, last night would never come up again. I gave him a small smile and watched the pain flicker across his eyes once more before he shook his head slightly, banishing the ghosts and demons for the day. He reached back and intertwined our fingers and started to pull me along with him on the walk back up to the cars.


End file.
